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Sacai: It’s not the luxurious grandeur that’s the problem

I frequently post about Sacai, the Tokyo imprint founded by ex-Junya Watanabe and Comme des Garçons staffer Chitose Abe. Although I sometimes feel it’s an exercise in futility. Both for me and anyone reading this. The twisted beauty of the collections is not in question; weird hybridisations captured within wearable silhouettes, a positively bellicose approach to cutting and pasting. Some pieces are so rarified, so heavy and ornate to the touch, that you think to own them would render the entirety of your existing wardrobe somehow weaker in comparison. But it’s not the luxurious grandeur that’s the problem, it’s the price.

Unlike your Engineered Garments, your Orslows and your Comfy Outdoor Garments, Sacai is at the pointy end of luxury. When you’re trying to calculate the cost-per-wear ratio of a £560 short sleeved shirt you’ve got to ask yourself if the Sacai lifestyle is really for you? I’m expecting Rishi Sunak’s budget will offer a Sacai stipend specifically for underachieving Londoners.

Over at Dover Street you can find the latest drop and this peachy nylon coat.


It brings to mind Grease’s Pink Ladies, or perhaps (my personal lockdown fave) Co-op’s Rainbow Uni-Cones. But look at all those pockets, you’d certainly get some use out of them. In fact this is that most brave of garments;  simultaneously practical and ridiculous, an uncompromising mash-up of utilitarian pragmatism and looking like a French Fancy.

The look-book image at the top of the page manages to soften the sorbet hues into something approaching manageable. Although I reckon the product pic directly above gives you a more accurate sense of reality. Look at the brown collar, fighting with all its might to bring some normality to proceedings. Just a little brown Barbour-style collar, sat atop a Willy Wonka waterfall of bubblegum and gobstoppers. Sacai don’t mess about.

I was originally going to point you in the direction of this stripy Sacai shirt, which I do rather like. But ultimately the expert foolishness of this jacket won me over. Don’t get me wrong, I’d wear it. I’d wear it the first time we’re allowed to go back to the pub. I’d happily stand there lording it over the Peckham regulars looking like a giant Opel Fruit drinking a Amstel top. But not at £1,030 I won’t. It’s almost as if I’m not welcome in the Sacai lifestyle.

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